


The Bigger Question

by pherryt



Series: Cosmic Forces [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: conversations with death, not specifically a coda but close, season 13, season 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Death was elusive, which was sort of amusing because BilliewasDeath for all intents and purposes, so when he shows up in her office, she takes the chance to ask a few questions.





	The Bigger Question

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea... lol  
> just some random thoughts i had that Billie tries to pull together for me

Billie returned from her regularly scheduled Winchester Surveillance and stopped short at the sight before her.

There, in the office she’d carefully nestled among the Winchester Books, was Death. And he wasn’t just sitting there waiting for her either. Oh no. He was puttering about in a kitchen. Something steamed on a gleaming stovetop, two different sized pots sitting on the front burners. Beside the stove was a black and silver contraption that had a small red light which glowed – a fryolator, she recalled.

She blinked and wondered what to say, or if she should interrupt him. He stood,with his back turned towards her and, for all that she could see, completely oblivious to her presence.  
  
“So, how are you liking the job?” Death asked, deftly cutting something green on the counter and dropping the tiny pieces into one of the two pots and thereby proving her wrong. He was, apparently, _quite_ aware of her. Then again… Death was aware of everyone. It was quite literally his job.

Or… well… her job, now, as he’d just reminded her.

“I’m really not,” Billie deadpanned, walking forward cautiously. “Honestly, you can have it back whenever you want, sir.”

“We’ve talked about this, Billie. I’m still on vacation. Don’t worry, you’re doing a fine job,” Death said.

“You were already  _on_  vacation, sir. For a millennium, remember?” Billie pointed out.

“Ah yes, well. I wouldn’t call  _that_ a vacation. Chained and bound, waiting for the end days and nothing good to eat in reach? And then that little upstart, the Morning Star, tried to leash me.” He tsked – actually tsked – and put the knife down. Death stirred the pot as if nothing he was saying bothered him but the air around him grew thick with tension and Billie shuddered before she could stop herself.

“As if such a thing were truly possible,” he scoffed, the words so quiet she almost missed them.

“Still, sir, Cosmic Things are happening. Don’t you think it should be you and not some lowly Reaper - one who only happened to be in the wrong place at the right time to get promoted, might I add - dealing with things?” Billie asked, ignoring the thick air with determination. She had questions and she wanted answers.

He turned to look at her disapprovingly. “I already told you, Billie. It was no accident that you took my place. You were more than ready. Been doing it for what, millennia, haven’t you?” he said, amusement in his voice as he threw her words back at her. “Who else could have stepped into my shoes?”

Well, not Dean Winchester, that was certain. Billie remembered that little experiment with horror and was glad that Tessa had been tasked with it, and not her.

He opened the lid of the fryolater and sniffed. “Almost ready. Mozzarella sticks. Quite good. Would you like some?”

“I don’t need to eat, sir,” Billie said.

“Neither do I, but I can still enjoy certain pleasures of life, of which eating good food is one of them. I highly recommend it.” He looked over at her with a raised brow. “No? Pity. More for me then.”

“Sir, I don’t think you understand. The world needs _you_ more than ever,” Billie insisted.

“I’m afraid that it is _you_ who doesn’t understand. Our time is over. The big players are all being moved off the board. God and Amara have left. My other brothers – such as they were – are gone, lost in the Apocalypse that never was. The Archangels - those native to this world anyway – are all gone. Eve was banished back to Purgatory for the second time, as were the Leviathans – nasty things, never understood why Chuck made those,” Death shook his head as a look of incomprehension floating over his gaunt features so swiftly Billie was sure she had imagined it.

“The princes and knights of Hell are dead, as are their seconds and nearly all the hounds too. The Nephilim are gone or powerless, and everything else is imprisoned.” Death reached for a jar on the spice rack Billie hadn’t noticed previously and continued to speak, “And naturally, thanks to Lucifer’s rampage some years back, most of the old ‘Gods’ are dead as well. Those few he didn’t get, the Hunters have been picking off as needed. Hell and Heaven are nearly empty, practically imploding on themselves. The world belongs to the humans, now, Billie.”

“I beg to differ sir. Left to their own devices, humans defy the natural order and plunge the world into chaos. In fact… there’s something I don’t get,” Billie said slowly.

“Oh?” Death asked, tapping the spice jar gently into the smaller pot before stirring it.

“You once gave Dean Winchester your ring to teach him a lesson about the balance of souls and the natural order of things, about how saving one before their time can cause a domino effect. And yet, not only do the Winchesters themselves deny death time and time again, out of their turn, but its actively encouraged.”

“Mmhmm… what’s your point, Billie?” Death didn’t even look up. “You already came to terms with all that when the mantle fell upon your shoulders.”

“Maybe so, but what I’m asking sir, is outside the Winchesters themselves, how are we – as a world, as a _universe -_ still standing?”

Finally, Death blinked and looked up at her. She tried hard not to flinch under his gaze. He said nothing but raised an eyebrow waiting for more.

She sighed. “Starting with the Apocalypse, sir. It was written. And it obviously never happened. Fate herself was a mite put out because she had no idea how to proceed past it. Her book had already ended and she was unable to put it back on track because there was _nothing_ to put _back_ – unlike that sneaky deal Castiel and his cohort in crime managed with the Titanic. That means that at least half the people that had been meant to die are still living on after the Apocalypse. You have millions of humans and other creatures living outside their time. The universe is already unbalanced because an entire  _world_ defied the natural order of things.”

“And to make matters worse – Heaven is not only closed, but its light is flickering. Souls are getting trapped in the veil once more – I doubt God will be making any return appearances to flick them where they belong, unless you know something I don’t, sir?” She paused and he made no effort to answer her, back still turned. “Soon Heaven’s gate will fall and then _all_ the souls’ Reapers have collected for millennia will flood the world, and it will be absolute chaos on Earth.”

“So I ask again, sir,” Billie said slowly, “How are we still standing and why do we bother reaping? In the end, what difference will it make? In an unprecedented chain of events, everyone is already on borrowed time.”

“So they are,” Death said.

Billie waited but the silence drew on. “And?”

“And nothing. It will work itself out. A new order is coming and it isn’t determined by the likes of us. Death will still have its place. If you’re so worried about it, perhaps it is you who should do something about it.” Death turned off the burner. “Foods ready. Sure you won’t have some?”

“But sir, the _rules!_ ”

“I know you’re fond of the rules, Billie, but honestly, they’re more like guidelines,” Death said, straining steaming hot water out of the larger pot.

“But…” she floundered. “But you were the one who taught us the rules. Ingrained each one upon our very beings.”

“Who do you think came up with them in the first place?” Death asked, placing the pot onto a trivet on the counter and reaching for the smaller pot that held red sauce and chunks of meat.

“God?” Billie asked hesitantly.

Death snorted, somehow making it an elegant action. “Of course not. I already existed. It was I who convinced Chuck that it was necessary. The world needed balance. Dark and Light. Life and Death. Good and Evil. Chuck couldn’t comprehend a world that held any hints of his sisters’ destruction, just as Amara couldn’t understand his drive to create life. But in time, Chuck grew to realize how necessary it was. He didn’t like it, perhaps, but then, he didn’t have to.”

He finished pouring the sauce into the bigger pot and stirred. “I created the rules of Reaping; therefore, I can change or break them as I see fit.”

Scooping out a generous heaping of spaghetti and meatballs onto a plate, Death turned and opened the fryolator once more, withdrawing the basket of mozzarella sticks and giving it a quick shake before dumping the fried cheese concoctions onto his plate. Then he took a few steps back and opened the oven, pulling out a foil wrapped shape. Opening it, he revealed garlic bread that he wasted no time in breaking in half and placing one half on his plate, the other half getting wrapped up and put beside the pot.

“The universe changes and grows, Billie. Sometimes, we have to change and grow with it.” He sat down at her desk, the meal spread out before him. She blinked and found a wineglass beside the plate that hadn’t been there seconds before. A red and white checked tablecloth had also appeared, draped over the desk, her books gone.

“Will that be all?” Death asked. “Or may I dig into this meal I worked hard to create?”

“I just have one more question, sir,” Billie said, leaning forward. This was the one thing that had really been bothering her during their whole discussion and she just _had_ to ask... and hope he actually gave he an answer that made sense to her.

Billie inhaled deeply, steeled herself with every ounce of willpower she had and asked, “Since when did we have a kitchen in here?”


End file.
